


Loose Lips

by bottledyarn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:46:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottledyarn/pseuds/bottledyarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Anything you'd like to tell me?”<br/>“No,” Stiles said, his eye twitching. “Oh! I got an A minus on the first physics quiz, that was good. Oh, and yesterday during study hall I stapled my hand by accident. Well, I suppose you couldn't quite call it an accident, but I didn't really expect it to get stuck in my skin, you know?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loose Lips

Being a sheriff, it was easy to tell when someone was constantly lying to you. Sheriff Stilinski had figured out long ago that his son was lying to him left and right, and being a police officer, decided to investigate it. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting- maybe drugs, maybe gang involvement. Something bad, in any case. But he hadn't been expecting this.

“Son,” he said, knocking at the frame of Stiles' door. “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, his head propped on one hand as he stared blankly at his computer screen, alternating between typing and scrolling furiously. “Alright, okay.”

The sheriff stood there for a moment, waiting for his son to stand up. It took a few minutes of patience, but finally Stiles' typing trailed off into a few stray clicks and his head turned towards his father in a series of small jerks away from the screen.

“Oh, oh, you mean now?” Stiles asked, flipping his laptop closed with one hand. 

“Yes, I mean now, Stiles,” he said, turning to go downstairs. Serious conversations were meant to be had at a table, that was just the way of life. He heard his son's footsteps down the stairs behind him, and they sat down within moments of each other.

“So what's up?” Stiles asked, one eye half-closing in a nervous tic. 

The sheriff shrugged. “Anything you'd like to tell me?”

“No,” Stiles said, his eye twitching. “Oh! I got an A minus on the first physics quiz, that was good. Oh, and yesterday during study hall I stapled my hand by accident. Well, I suppose you couldn't quite call it an accident, but I didn't really expect it to get stuck in my skin, you know?”

He sighed. He hadn't expected his son to be forthcoming about the information, but it would have been nice. 

“I know what's been going on, Stiles,” he said, knowing that his voice gave away how exhausted he was by all of the problems.

Stiles' eyebrows jumped and then furrowed. “What's been going on?”

“Yes.”

“What...what has been going on?” Stiles asked, folding his hands together on the table.

“Scott and the majority of the rest of your friends are werewolves,” the sheriff said, leaning back in his chair, feeling vaguely triumphant.

“Oh,” Stiles said, letting his air rush out of him into the word. “Oh.”

The sheriff frowned. Stiles sounded...relieved. 

“You're not panicked that I know?” he asked.

“Well, no,” Stiles said. “Now I don't have to make up stuff anymore. I mean, I would be worried about you getting involved, since it's pretty dangerous for us fragile humans, but with you being the sheriff, you've pretty much been involved in it all along, just...obliviously.”

“Alright,” he said. “So that's it? We don't need to have some big conversation?”

“No,” Stiles said “Why would we?”

“Melissa said-”

“Ms. McCall told you?” Stiles exclaimed, sitting up in his seat. “Dammit, she promised.” 

“I thought you didn't care that I know,” the sheriff said. 

“Well, I don't, but...” Stiles sat back in his chair. “She promised.”

The sheriff could feel the tension easing out of his back. He'd been preparing for some kind of blowout with his son, the type of shouting that usually came when Stiles found a cheeseburger wrapper on the floor of the sheriff's car. 

Stiles stood up abruptly, his chair thumping. He stood there for a second and then frowned, eyes bulging, and sat back down, staring intensely at his father.

“Ms. McCall explained all the werewolf stuff to you?” Stiles asked. “She didn't mention about D-”

Stiles cut off abruptly. 

“Mention what?” the sheriff asked. “She explained all of the werewolf pack...stuff.”

“That's all?” Stiles smiled, and then the expression dropped away and he nodded furiously. “Okay, well, good talk, Dad.”

He headed for the stairs at a half-run, and the sheriff frowned. 

“Stiles!” he shouted, following his son up the stairs. He made it about halfway up when he heard his son's door lock. “What else might she have mentioned? Stiles!” 

“What are you talking about, Dad?” Stiles shouted from inside his room. “You know everything now!”

“Stiles!” the sheriff continued. “What else do I need to know? Stiles!”

“Go to sleep, Dad,” Stiles shouted. “All this yelling isn't good for your heart.”

“Isn't good for my- isn't good for my heart?” he shouted. “What isn't good for my heart is wondering what this other thing is that you're hiding from me that you're more intent on hiding than the fact that your friends are mythological creatures!”

“I'm tired, Dad, I'm going to sleep!” 

“Stiles!”


End file.
